


Morning Glory

by wildmunko



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Party, Partying, Softcore Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildmunko/pseuds/wildmunko
Summary: “Him?”“He looks like a charming idiot to me.”During a party at his cousin's penthouse, Misto bumps into a boy he doesn't know. Night might be young, but Mistoffelees will discover how sweet it is to wait till sunrise.// Human AU one shot, more fluff than smut
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Morning Glory

**15** **th August**

The flat is packed with people I don’t know. I am sitting on the sofa, next to my cousin and a guy that looks at her as if she was the most beautiful creature in the world. He doesn’t see me behind her. Probably no one does. It usually happens when you have Victoria around; all the eyes are on her. Always.

Nevertheless, I am not bitter about it. Partly because I am used to it, partly because I really don’t like to be the centre of attention, but deep down I am even thankful for her spectacular charisma and the way she traps everyone in the most mundane conversation. I take a sip from my cup and try to engage in the conversation with not much success. Victoria is talking about our holidays in Spain. She is exaggerating the experience, although I silently agree with her in the fact that the weather and the food were way better than ours. And the parties. I roll my eyes at the mention of the parties. She has spent the last three weeks dragging me from one club to another, joining every group of people she found amusing and making me stay up all night again and again until I literally passed out in the middle of one of them. It wasn’t funny at all, but I chuckle when she mentions how I fell flat on my face. She turns to me and, for an instant, her friends acknowledge my existence and look at me with a somehow hollow expression of surprise. They see me, but just as they see the potus on the table in front of us. I am an actor in her story, but a secondary one, and they forget about me the second I am out of the plot.

I look around and drink. This thing, whatever it is, tastes like shit. I wrinkle my nose and decide that I have had enough social interaction for now. I get up from the sofa and, trying not to step on anyone, walk out of the living room. I must admit that I am impressed. I knew she was popular but damn! There are a lot of people here, all gathered around the sofa from where my dear cousin Victoria waves me goodbye on my way out of this place.

Of course, it was her idea and not mine to throw one last party before the summer was over and, as her parents were out for a week more, their penthouse in Knightsbridge was the perfect location for it. And it was, indeed, an impressive place. The luxury apartment, with its wide windows showing us a privileged view of Hyde Park, is a pleasant place to spend the rest of the night drinking cheap gin mixed with lemonade. Apparently, most of the people here are her friends from university, and friends of those friends, and friends of the friends of those friends, and so on. I can count with the fingers of one hand the one I have met before, but I am sure they don’t remember me and if they do, they don’t have much interest in me. I am okay with that too. I don’t like them anyway.

Victoria studies dance and performing arts in a renowned —and very posh— university here in London, so it is no surprise that most of her peers are filthy rich entitled kids that know nothing about… Well, about nothing at all. They live in some other alternative reality in which the worst thing that can happen to you is not being able to buy the newest iPhone or another Prada purse, or, who knows, a horse, or a yacht, or whatever other nonsense this kids need to have in order to prove their otherwise inexistent status. And, don’t get me wrong, I am by any means roasting my dear cousin. She’s lovely, but money covers you in this odd layer of naivety that you can’t just take off and sets an impermeable barrier between your life and real life, in which people like me have our ordinary problems and anxieties such as rent, bills and what the hell I am going to do when my scholarship expires. Glamourous, right?

For my utter disgrace, the kitchen is also full of people, but they are even louder than the ones in the living room. I empty my cup in the sink and try to dodge them on my way to the fridge where, hopefully, I will find beer. But most of these obnoxious louts are way too drunk to just step aside when they see that someone is clearly trying to pass by. Suddenly, one of them —who is apparently playing some fucked-up version of beer-pong with the thin champagne glasses— shoves me violently when he takes a step back to throw another ball into the delicate glasses. I stumble with my own feet and lose balance for a second, falling to my right side, when my body collides with an immovable object. 

Soon I find out that it is not an object, but a person, but I am too busy looking at my own shirt, which was supposed to be white but now has a massive red stain, from my chest down to my belly button. “Shit!” I yell, pinching the wet cloth with my fingers and trying to keep it away from my skin. “Fuck it… Man, be careful!!” I turn around to yell at the shitball that has pushed me, quite literally, to this mess, but he is too busy with his bloody game to pay me any attention.

“Daaaaamn.” A voice calls mine, right in front of me. I turn my face and I find a tall guy, not much older than me. He has dark blonde hair and sun-kissed skin. He is wearing a black shirt and black pants and a spiked belt. “Sorry for that, mate.” He slaps my arm with comradery while he says that, with a sluggish voice, too calm to be sorry for what he has done. In his hand, a glass of wine, half empty. 

I take a deep breath and try to hold back my murderous instincts. This is my only white shirt and I really don’t know if I will be able to clean it properly. “It’s okay” I say, clearly irritated because IT’S NOT OKAY, MATE and I look up to him. For a moment I go mute. 

He is looking at me with a half-smile. He appears very relaxed and unaware of the situation, but there is a peculiar feeling in the way he stares at me. Attentive, almost analytical. My throat goes dry in a reaction I cannot fully understand. His rebellious dark blonde hair crowns an angular face, with high cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose. “Let me help you with that,” he says, as he leaves the glass on the kitchen counter.

I take a step back, almost instinctively and I shake my head in denial. “No, no, it’s fine, I… I’ll go to the bathroom. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” he arches an eyebrow.

There is a tall girl behind him, dressed in red leather. She is putting on lipstick, looking at herself in a small round mirror. My eyes go from one to another, wondering where this strange couple comes from. “Come on, Tugger” she says, distracted with her own reflection. 

I look at the boy that now has a name, and he smiles once more, patting my shoulder. “See you,” he says, and they leave. I follow them with my eyes as they go. To be honest, I am following him, not them. I take a second to recover and, still puzzled by my own reaction, I rush to the bathroom. I find one of them —I’m pretty sure there are at least three— and, lucky for me, it is empty. I lock the door as I enter it and I go straight to the sink, taking off my stained shirt. “Oh, no…” I lament, as I futilely try to wash it off. I get the stain to fade from burgundy to pale pink, but it is still too obvious and, besides, my shirt is soaked in water so even if it was clean, I couldn’t wear it. I sigh and rest my forehead against the beautiful marble sink. Maybe if I smash my head against it, I will feel better.

I stay like this for a second before looking up at the mirror. My hair is tousled, and I have to comb the black locks back with my fingers. But what really mortifies me is the image of my cheeks, all pink and blushed. “What the hell…” I mutter at my own reflection, pinching my cheeks. I bend down again and wash my face with cold water, trying to calm down my deep embarrassment. But soon I realise that my pity party is about to begin.

I turn around and I see my auntie's silk robe hanging from the wall. I sigh at my own bad luck and, exchanging my wet shirt for the robe, I wrap it around my body. I don’t look bad at all, and the dark violet of the fabric makes my blue eyes stand out. But it is not the most dignified outfit ever. Without thinking it twice, I walk out of the bathroom with all the dignity I have left, and I go back to the living room. As she sees me coming, Victoria widens her eyes like a cartoon, looking up and down at me on her mother’s robe. I timidly wave my hand at her, but it is too late, and half of the room follows her reaction, looking directly at me. Oh, the buffoonery. 

“Misto?” She calls my name, perplexed.

I look around as if there was anyone else in the room who answered to said name and I end up pointing at myself. “Yes, cousin?” I hear chuckles and giggles and I contain the overwhelming desire to throw myself out of the window of pure embarrassment. Can someone die of pure shame? I really wonder if I could physically, biologically die as a consequence of this humiliation.

Victoria laughs melodiously and gets up from the sofa, walking towards me. He takes me by the arm and turns me around, walking out from the living room. “What are you doing?” she asks, equally surprised and amused, with her arm still around mine. We go upstairs to the top of the duplex, to Victoria’s bedroom.

“Oh, yeah… It was an accident. Now my shirt is hanging in the bathroom with a big ass wine stain. One of your super nice friends pushed me into another dude and well… It was your mum’s robe or my bare chest, and I don’t know if the world is ready for it” I answer, laughing at my own bitterness.

“Awww, come on, they’re not that bad!” she answers, giggling and resting her head against my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Misto. I’m not paying much attention to you today, am I? Are you enjoying the party?”

My smile sweetens when she addresses me this way and I click my tongue. “Oh, yeah, I’m having a ball.” I roll my eyes to complete the performance, making her laugh again, delighted. But as we walk by the corridor, we begin to hear sounds coming from one room on our left. Victoria frowns her delicate pale brows and approaches the shut door, pressing her ear against the dark wood. 

Suddenly someone laughs behind it, loud enough for us to hear it and Vic opens the door, stomping inside the room. “I thought I said you can’t go upsta- Oh, hi!” The abrupt change on her voice startles me. I wasn’t planning on exposing my new flamboyant outfit to anyone else, but pulled by my nosy nature, I decide to take a look inside. Anyways, Victoria is already entering the room, so I guess I have no option.

I cross the threshold hesitantly and then I close the door behind me, just as my cousin asks me to do. The room happens to be another living room, a smaller one, with a large grey sofa on the bottom and three other bean bag chairs on the floor around the biggest screen I have ever seen. It is in moments like this one when I wonder how it is possible to have such wealthy relatives and, at the same time, to be as penniless as I am. But it is not the opulence of the room what sets a knot in my stomach.

On two of the bean bags I recognize Cette and Jem, two of Victoria’s closest friends. I kinda like Jemima, but I can’t say the same about Cettie. She is really nice and kind and never takes my passive-aggressiveness seriously, but her voice feels like an ice pick through my ear, so I really put a conscious effort in avoiding her. Victoria greets them both and then throws herself to the sofa. “Hello, Tugger” she says, in a surprisingly velvety voice that catches me completely off guard.

Tugger, that is his name. The boy that showered me in wine is languidly lying on the sofa and my cousin seems to love his presence. Well, the three girls in the room are apparently captivated by this random dude. “Hi, Vicky!” he answers and gives her a perfectly wide smile, leaning an inch closer to comb her pale blonde hair back. I contain the deep disgust that the scene causes me and immediately after that I contemplate, not without surprise, my own sourness.

“Oooh, it’s you again.” Now he is talking to me and I have no choice but to go back to reality. He gives me the exact same smile he has given to Victoria and for a moment I just shrug inside the silk robe. His eyes shine with amusement. “Nice outfit!” And with those few words he shuts my mouth and makes me swallow my bitterness. I ignore the burning sensation that is expanding from my cheeks to the rest of my face and I take a seat on the free bean bag chair and try not to look at him even if I clearly feel his eyes on me all the time. I bet he is smiling too.

The door opens all of a sudden and three heads peek through it. I recognize one of them: she is the girl with the red lipstick that was with Tugger when we met in the kitchen. The other two, a black-haired guy and the boy that was sitting next to Victoria on the sofa downstairs, I don’t know them. But surprisingly, everyone seems to know Tugger. They all go straight to greet him, high five him or just sit as close to him as possible. It is like watching a National Geographic documentary on wildlife. They all fight for his attention as if it was a matter of survival and, as much as I try, I can’t find the reason why.

“Let’s go down to get a bottle or two!” says the pale boy that looked at Victoria with an immense adoration. Almost as immense as the one he seemed to feel for the guy called Tugger. 

“Come on, come on.” The other one —Alonzo was his name?— grabs him by the arm and forces him to get up from the sofa, which he does with a loud growl. 

I look down to my hands while they play fidgety with the belt of the robe. The sudden intromission makes me a bit uncomfortable and I really don’t know what to say or what to do. I frown at my own fingers and click my tongue before bringing my attention back to the people in the room. For a second, a flash of jealousy strikes my chest. Sometimes I wish I could do what they do. Just be natural around people I don’t know, make friends easily, be more talkative… Without really intending it, my eyes end up finding Tugger. Out of them all he is the one that makes it look the most innate. Absolutely effortless. He just stands there and everyone follows his beat. For an instant I wish I could do what he does. 

But before leaving, Tugger turns around and his eyes dart directly into mine. It is just a fraction of a second, but once more he beams so radiantly that I almost feel like I lose my ability to breathe. The door closes behind the three boys and I stay where I am, still trying to unravel whatever feeling that is making my heart pound against my chest this way. It is very, deeply, utterly irritating.

“So…” I turn around at my cousin’s voice and I find the four girls looking at me. “What do you think about him?”

“Him?”

“Tugger?” Cettie says, with her big eyes glistening in pure emotion. What an overwhelming sensation, jeez.

I keep my lips shut for a moment, not knowing what they want for me. “He… He looks like a charming idiot to me.”

“A charming idiot?” Victoria answers, with a gleeful chortle, and they all follow her in laughter. I shrug and try not to laugh, but my lips are pursed, and I still find it difficult to repress the laughter that is struggling to come out.

***

I am not a heavy drinker, that is a fact. It takes just a couple of shots and I am already feeling tipsy. We —me, Vic, her friends and the friends of her friends— decide to stay in the living room upstairs. It is more intimate, and I don’t have to deal with all the people downstairs. Anyway, my senses are dazed enough for me to not give a damn about anything.

I get to meet the rest of the crew. The girl that came with Tugger calls herself Bombalurina, which is a peculiar and bombastic way to name yourself, but I still like it. Maybe it is the way she dances without caring if someone watches or not, or maybe it is for the dozens of shots she has invited me, but I genuinely believe it when I yell at her “YOU’RE THE COOLEST PERSON IN THIS WHOLE DAMN PARTY!”. I think she laughs, but I really don’t pay much attention and I keep dancing. There is music blasting from the speakers of the home cinema and I literally can’t hold myself back from dancing. Now I get it, oh, now I get why people love to get drunk at parties! It makes it much more bearable.

“Look at him, look at him!” I follow Victoria’s voice to the sofa, and I keep dancing for their amusement. I try to strike a proper pose for the situation, but I wobble after one last turn and I almost fall to the couch. Trying to keep balance and, what is more important, to keep my cup safe, I slowly sit down next to my cousin. “Are you having a good time now?” she asks. She’s sitting half on the sofa and half on that pale boy’s lap.

“I am, I am” I say, and my boy sounds thicker than usual when I speak. “It’s great, Victoria. You’re great. Oh, fuck it, you all are great!” I yell, raising my cup and then letting myself fall back on the couch, but instead of landing on a soft surface, I feel something hard between my shoulder blades. “Ooooh… Sorry. I- I haven’t seen you” I apologise, turning to my right to find a pair of attentive eyes and a very pleased smile. “The charming idiot himself, hm.”

In my mind I have muttered that last line, but by the way in which he grins, almost playfully, I guess he has heard it. Tugger makes no comments about my very precise appreciation, but he fixes his gaze on me for a couple of seconds, too many to be just an ordinary stare. I go speechless and I purse my lips for a moment, trying to conceal a smile that nonetheless curves the corners of my mouth. He seems to notice it and then, finally looks away. I turn my attention to my cup, maybe to hide my wide smile while I drink, but once more Victoria brings me back to reality.

“He” she’s pointing at me while she talks so I deduce that I am he “is already in the Royal Ballet.” Oh, the Royal Ballet. My smile turns into a mischievous grin as I look at them, pretending to be all aloof and unaware of all the astonished looks that I am receiving.

“Hm? Oh, me?” I say, casual and cool as a cucumber. Damn, I am good at this. “Yeah, well… It was a hard journey, you know? It’s not easy at all. You have to be the best of the best.” I receive all the gasps and exclamations with an overwhelming delight. All these rich kids losing their minds over someone like me… I am not used to this situation and, as much as I want to look chill and composed, I am thankful for the dim lighting of the room, because I am pretty sure that my cheeks have turned flaming red. I look to my right and I am glad to find Tugger looking back at me. We share another long stare and a smile, and, somehow, I feel that he understands what I am feeling. It is a kind of complicity that I rarely feel, and, for some reason, I am starting to like it. Maybe I am drunker than what I thought I was.

I, for once, rejoice in the pleasure of being the centre of attention, but it doesn’t last for long. They go back to their conversations about things that I don’t understand, or I don’t know first-hand, or I simply don’t care about, so I lie down again, languid, looking at the bottom of my cup as I pout. Once more, I look at my right and try to find some amusement in the charming idiot that I am starting —just starting— to appreciate, but he just gets up and leaves, without saying a single word. I follow him with my eyes as he goes straight to the balcony, closing the glass door behind him. The curtains prevent me from seeing him anymore, so I just try to re-join the conversation, but as expected, I fail.

I find myself looking to the balcony every couple of seconds, almost impatiently. My own behaviour annoys me beyond belief, but for some reason I can’t stay in my place, and, pretending to receive a phone call, I manage to sneak out and I go directly to the balcony. 

I leave the curtains closed behind me, just as the door, shutting it carefully. Compared to the penthouse, the balcony is too silent, and alcohol makes me clumsy, so I really try to be graceful and sly, but apparently, I fail because Tugger chuckles in the distance. I give up on my attempt to be discrete and I walk towards him. He is leaning on the balustrade and there is a cigarette on his right hand. I copy his posture, titling my head down and then up again. Am I stretching to distract myself from looking at him? Maybe. Do I feel ridiculous while doing so? Of course. Does he notice? For the way he, once again, smiles, I would say he does.

“Stop it” I mutter, wrinkling my nose as I turn my face to the astounding views of London at night.

“Stop what?” he asks, placing the cigarette between his lips. Now he is the one following my movements and turns his face to the views, but he still looks amused.

“All that… Smile thing you do” I answer, even if I know that I am not making any sense. He chuckles softly and looks at me from the corner of his eye, exhaling a cloud of smoke, but carefully turning his head to avoid it from coming to my face. I appreciate the detail. “It’s annoying me.”

“I don’t know what you mean” he answers, after a pause that has lasted for a bit too long.

I roll my eyes and rest my face between my hands while my elbows are still on the railing. “Of course, you do…” I make another pause, while I bite my lower lip. I find myself stealing glances at him, but he looks quite entertained on his own. “Can you give me one? A cigarette” I say, in a desperate attempt of finding an excuse to stay on the balcony for a little longer.

He nods, offering me the pack of cigarettes. I take one and I put it on my lips, leaning closer to him as he lights it. The weather is warm and dry, so it doesn’t take long, but during these few seconds, his closeness makes me hold my breath. I must admit that he is attractive. Very attractive, indeed. While he is this close, I can appreciate small details, like his long eyelashes, or the way he frowns slightly when he is concentrated, or how soft his hands look. As I move back once he lighted my cigarette, I realise that he doesn’t take his eyes off me.

I take a drag as I turn my face to Hyde Park. Why am I so nervous? Why does he make me feel this way? And why am I constantly looking for him? I cough loudly as the smoke goes to my lungs. Maybe I am not used to smoke and this dumb excuse id going to expose me in front of Tugger. He giggles as I recover my already fragile dignity and I wrap myself tighter on my rob. Suddenly, I realise that I have not introduced myself yet. “I’m Misto, by the way” I say, casually.

“Tugger” he answers, offering his hand. I already knew his name, but it feels good when he says it.

I shake the hand that he offers me. “Nice to meet you.” Maybe I hold his hand for a little too long, but he doesn’t seem to care. I feel hyper-attentive, but I swear I can even feel how his fingers press mine softly. I pray that my hands don’t sweat. “Is it a nickname?” I ask, as we unwrap our hands, slowly. He leaves a last touch, just a caress, on my fingertips. It is subtle, but it makes me tremble.

“No, they just call me like that.” He goes back to his cigarette and I do the same until he talks again. “And you? Misto is not a common name.”

I nod, falsely nonchalant. “Mistoffelees.” He raises both eyebrows when he hears my full name. “I know, my parents are super original.”

“It suits you.”

I look at him, not knowing how to interpret these last words, but he is not looking at me anymore. Hush falls over us and I hear the music coming from inside. Someone has put on mildly sad indie music and I snort. “I hate this song” I complain, as an excuse to go back to our conversation. I am not even sure of which son it is, but it sounds like I Always Knew, and I do, actively and intensely, hate that song.

“Is there anything you really like?” He finds it really amusing, and I wonder why.

With a brief shrug, I try to play it cool. “Of course, but hating it’s so much fun” I answer, and we both start to laugh at the same time. Okay, this one was kinda funny. Maybe I am trying too hard, but I really love this weird tingly sensation I feel whenever he laughs at my words. “Are you from London? I haven’t seen you before.”

Tugger nods and then tilts his head right and left, taking a last drag on the cigarette before dropping it carelessly on the ground. “I am, but right now I live in Brighton.”

“Brighton, lovely! Studies?”

He shakes his head. “Work. I’m trying to… Live on my own, I guess. And you?”

“I’m a dancer.” My answer feels a little foolish, so I rush to add. “A ballet dancer, here in London.”

“The Royal Ballet, right?”

“Right” I whisper, as I nod. It makes me proud to work for the Royal Ballet, but I don’t want to sound full of myself in front of him. I look down at my feet. I admit that it made me a tad soft to realise that he remembers what Victoria said before. We stay quiet again, and this time I don’t know what else to say. Fuck it. I am running out of reasons to speak to him, but I still don’t want to go back in. But he has already finished his cigarette and if I don’t speak soon, he will leave.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, all of a sudden, and drags me out of my thoughts.

“Sure” I answer, slightly turning my body in his direction. He leans towards me and, for a second, I panic. But he just comes closer to take the cigarette out of my hand. I sigh when he goes back to his position, but his question startles me again.

“Are you single?”

I look at him, trying not to grin even wider as he blows the smoke out of his nose. “I am” I answer, while nodding. Then I look down at my feet and up at him again. “Why? Are you going to flirt with me?” Alcohol makes me bolder. How I wish I had a full glass with me now. He doesn’t answer, but he gives me a long stare as he offers back the cigarette. I accept it, keeping my eyes on his and I take another drag. For a moment, I just think of how mere seconds ago this cigarette was in his lips and now it is on my own. “I just want to warn you, because I’m not used to this and it could get a bit weird.”

“Used to what?”

“You know…” I suddenly feel awkward, when I realise how he wants me to explain something he already understands. “Flirting and… Stuff.”

“And stuff” he repeats, enjoying my suffering, and stretches his arm in my direction, asking once more for the cigarette. Gathering all my dignity, I give him a look of disdain and I take another drag, ignoring his request. He clicks his tongue, but chuckles, and this time I pass the cigarette. “So, you’re single” he concludes.

The sudden answer brings a smile to my face. “Pretty much. These things don’t happen to me very often. Well… They don’t happen to me at all.” Maybe I am being too honest, but I am still a bit tipsy and thus I can afford it.

He takes another of his long pauses, but this time he doesn’t look amused. His eyes are on me once more, but he is listening, paying attention, and it overwhelms me. For a moment I need to look away, so I take out my phone. It is three in the morning. As I put my phone back in the pocket of my trousers, I move an inch closer to him. His left hand is resting on the railing, not far away from my right hand. I look up and I find his piercing gaze. He drops the question and his voice sounds soft, tender.

“Would you like it to happen?”

We look at each other and, for a moment, I swear that the world stops spinning. Is he saying what I think he is saying? Does he really mean it? I don’t usually feel this kind of attraction with people I have just met or, well, with people in general. It is pleasant and, at the same time, uncomfortable, almost scary. My heart is pounding against my chest and I am barely able to breathe properly, less to speak, but I suddenly understand all my reactions. 

I am about to answer when the door of the balcony opens abruptly and we both turn around, startled, as if we had been caught red handed. 

“Here you are!” Jemima yells, and she storms into the balcony, followed by Victoria, Cettie and Bombalurina. “We have been looking for you!” She’s talking to Tugger, so I step back and I let them see him. 

“Yeah, you’ve disappeared like an hour ago!” Cet screams, and Victoria approaches us, wrapping her arm around mine. She gives me a very significant look, but I pretend not to understand it. “Bombalu says that you should leave now, but I say you two should stay. There are enough rooms for everyone here and we’re having such a nice time!” she whines, appearing to be really affected by this minor nuisance.

“What do you say?” Bombalurina asks. Behind here, Alonzo has come out to the balcony too, and he looks really, really interested in the possibility that she stays for the night.

“I insist:” Victoria adds, wrapping the other arm around Tugger’s arm, so she is packed between us “stay. Well watch a movie and then we’ll have breakfast!”

Tugger looks at his friend, at the girl, at Alonzo, at Victoria, and finally at me. A golden curl falls down his forehead and he beams at us. “Sounds like a plan to me” he says, finally, and they all celebrate his decision, cheering and clapping in enthusiasm. I can’t hold back a giggle at the way in which he had gained their admiration so effectively. What a charming idiot.

***

At half past three, Victoria kicks everyone out of her house. Well, not everyone. Jemima, Cettie, Alonzo, Tugger, Bombalurina, the boy who apparently liked her whose name is Plato, and me are allowed to stay.

We all gather around the big screen upstairs. Some sit on the sofa and some on the bean bag chairs or even on the floor. I sit on one of the ends of the sofa, and Tugger sits next to me, very conveniently. I pretend to be casual about it, but when the lights go out and the movie starts, I move subtly to my right, closer to him. Our knees touch and I wonder if it is too much, but from the corner of my eye I see his smile.

I try to focus on the movie for a while, but, even if it is as superficial as it is, the contact of our legs raises my pulse. I bite the inner of my lip nervously and suddenly I feel a weight on my knee. It is his hand. A shiver goes up my spine as he puts pressure on it. I look around, but no one seems to notice what we are doing. They are all too busy drinking, or watching the movie, or, well… Trying to flirt with others. I smile at my own good luck and I let him do as he likes. This time I can’t blame it on the alcohol, because I can’t barely feel its effect anymore. But, as odd as it is to me, I like it. I like the feeling of his hand on my leg and I like it even more when he begins to move it upwards on my thigh. I keep looking forward, pretending to be paying attention to the movie, but my breathing is getting heavy. 

Once I am sure that no one is paying attention to us, I slowly bring my hand to his wrist, grabbing it. The touch of my hand startles him, and he abruptly turns his face to me. His lips part, as if he is about to ask me if I am okay with this. I slowly shake my head with a soft smile, shushing quietly, and then I move his hand upwards, directly to my crotch. His grin grows, turning again to the screen and I gulp, keeping my hand on his. This is the first time we are touching each other, and his skin feels like burning under my fingers. He starts to press harder on my groin and I gasp, tensing my body. This is not how I behave normally, this is not common for me, and I can barely believe my nerves when I slowly move my hips against his hand, to keep him going. I look around and I check all the faces in the room, but they all look distracted. I suddenly find myself enjoying the risk, aroused while doing something that I shouldn’t do.

He starts to massage a bit harder and I close my eyes. I am getting all worked up and I am afraid that it is starting to be a bit too obvious. I look to my right and I see that he is still careful, watching that nobody sees us. But he surely notices my excitement and, before it can get any further, he gradually stops, putting his hand back on my leg. I let go a long sigh as he pats my thigh in a friendly manner. I can’t recognise my own behaviour. I look down and I notice that I have a hard on, which apparently satisfies Tugger, because his smile is as wide as it could be while he pretends that nothing happened. I pinch the bridge of my nose out of pure frustration, but now my mind can’t think about anything else. Tugger and I keep stealing glances from each other as long as the movie lasts, and I wonder what he is thinking about. He doesn’t touch me down there anymore, but we still play with our hands, discreetly, caressing one another as we pretend that nothing happened, but my heart rate is at its limit.

When he finally withdraws his hand, I can’t stop thinking about the whole situation. It is just… Weird. And now I am sober enough to fully appreciate it. Victoria and her friends are too shitfaced to notice what is going on, but Tugger is not. He is fully conscious of his acts, and so am I. And Bombalurina… His friend. I am pretty sure that she is sober too and that she knows what is going on. I give her a couple of shy looks and, every single time, she gives me a shy smile and then pretends not to see me.

I turn my face to the movie but, as much as I struggle, I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I don’t want to fall asleep. For once, I don’t want to miss the party. But my brain has other plans and decides to shut down.

***

I open my eyes and it takes me a moment to realise where I am.

At some point in the movie I must have fallen asleep, but I really don’t remember when. I take a deep breath and stretch my body. Everyone around me is asleep too, but I soon realise that there is an empty space next to me, where Tugger was. Still groggy from the nap, I get up from the sofa and tiptoe to the balcony. My instinct doesn’t fail, and I find Tugger there, sitting on the floor in a corner, the one that is furthest from the door.

“Hey” I mumble, and my voice sounds raspy. He answers with a lazy nod. He was probably asleep too, because his hair is all tousled and messy. I sit right next to him, my knees bent and my chin resting on them. We don’t talk for a while. Our eyes stare at the rising sun, so I assume that it must be around six in the morning. The silence grows thicker and I can’t help but feel a bit ashamed of my behaviour. All kinds of questions strike my mind at once. Did I make him feel uncomfortable? Is he angry at me? Should I leave? “Ahm… Sorry for that.” I say, just to fill the awkward silence.

“For what?” His sudden answer startles me a little, but I can’t hide my relief when I perceive that there is no hostility in his voice.

I turn my face to him, resting my left cheek on my knees. “For what happened before… During the movie.” As I say these words, I feel dumb and embarrassed. I hear his laugh and it makes me even more ashamed, but I can’t hide my own smile. “Okay, I’m pathetic, I get it.”

He beams at me and I allow myself to relax again. “You’re cute, actually.”

“Shut up.”

“But you are! I’m being honest.” I slap his arm after he says that and we both laugh, before sinking into another pause. I am starting to get used to his silence. “Did you like it?” he asks, suddenly.

I tilt my head left and right, with a shy smile curving the corners of my lips. Finally, I nod, too shy to admit out loud how aroused it made me feel to have an almost unknown guy touching me like that. “It’s just… I’ve never imagined I’d do this with a stranger.”

He raises both his brows and places a hand on his chest, appearing to be utterly offended. “Excuse me? I’m a stranger?”

I burst into laughter and he follows me right away, as I rush to justify my words. “I didn’t mean that, no… But you know.”

Tugger nods, pursing his lips and looking away for a moment. I try to guess what he is thinking about, but he acts before I can come to any conclusion. He moves his arm swiftly and suddenly his hand is back on my crotch. I gasp, turning nervously at the balcony door. It is closed, but I don’t know if the people behind it are still asleep or not. However, no one seems to move behind the curtains and I slowly relax, letting my legs down and giving more space for him to move. “Easy…” I whisper, turning to my right so I can face him.

He smiles with his lips pressed, and then moves my robe to unbutton my trousers. I close my eyes for a moment, but I really don’t want to miss a single second of this. He turns his body to be closer to mine as he keeps fondling me. I feel his hand over the thin fabric of my briefs, and I have to hold back a moan, covering my mouth with a hand. Tugger chuckles at my sudden reaction and his fingers start to move up and down the length of my now too obvious boner. I try to calm down, but I am already panting. He gives me another of his charming smiles and I finally feel how he moves my underwear and wraps his hand around my hard-on. 

“Fuck” I mutter, making him laugh again, but this time I react more actively. “What are you laughing at?” I ask, but I am gasping, and it doesn’t sound intimidating at all. His grin grows and I feel his thumb moving in circles on my tip. I shiver and my breathing becomes even more weak, which doesn’t help at all, so I lean closer and rest my forehead against his. I don’t want to look down because I am afraid, I will come if I see what he is doing. He takes his free hand to my face and strokes my cheek in a way that I can only perceive as tender, but he doesn’t kiss me and neither do I. My heart is racing as he begins to move his hand faster up and down my dick. I feel his breath on my lips as we keep our foreheads together. I let myself go and grasp his leg, trying to find some support. I am almost there, and a wave of pleasure goes from my lower stomach up to my face as I tense my body. 

“Don’t stop” I moan, breathless, almost pleading. Our noses rub against each other and the only thing that is keeping me from kissing him is how shaky I am. “Please, don’t stop.” It feels too good to be real, but I don’t want to think about it, not now. I keep my eyes shut and feel the touch of his hand, getting lost in the pleasant sensation that is taking me straight to orgasm.

“Hey, guys- Oh, shit!” The voice comes from the door of the balcony, and I am abruptly dragged out of the cloud in which I was. Alonzo is looking at us from there, his eyes wide open and his jaw dropped. I rush to cover myself with the robe and my eyes dart in every direction, avoiding both Alonzo and Tugger at all cost. I feel my face burning and I could die right now out of pure embarrassment. What the hell I was thinking? How could I let this happen? I can’t handle the situation, let alone look Tugger in the face. I storm out of the balcony without looking back and then I cross the cinema room. I rush downstairs and straight to the bedroom where I was supposed to sleep last night. The light floods in from the windows, it is already morning, so there is no way that Alonzo has not seen what we were doing. What I was doing. Shame is, quite literally, killing me. How am I supposed to confront Victoria about this? I take both hands to my face and try not to scream.

Still upset and shaken, I take off the robe and my trousers, which were still unbuttoned, and I leave them on the ground. I throw myself on the mattress and I try to sleep my shame off, but it doesn’t work, and I just end up rolling on bed anxiously. At some point, my body gives up under the weight of weariness and I feel that my eyelids are turning heavy. 

Finally, it seems that I am reaching that sweet embarrassment-nap that I am looking for and I am ready to let go. The sudden noise of an opening door startles me and I almost jump out of bed. It opens slowly and, tiptoeing, Tugger enters the room. He closes the door behind him, carefully, trying not to make a sound. He takes a finger to his lips as if he was asking me to stay quiet too. It is okay; I am too bewildered to articulate a single word. I follow his movements attentively. He is barefoot and his hair is still a bit tousled. From the slit of his shirt —it is only half buttoned— I can see his skin. It has a warm, sun-kissed tone and I get lost in the shades and the lights that define his anatomy. My body temperature raises when I notice that he caught me undressing him with my gaze.

I sit up on the bed and my eyes dart down at my hands and back at him. I am getting nervous and I am sure he knows, but I keep my eyes on his own although my face already feels like burning. Then he unbuttons her shirt and takes it off. The fabric slides down his body and I have to swallow a lump in my throat. My mouth feels dry and I feel a now familiar pressure under my shorts. I want to be rational and I want to behave, but my heart is already racing, and my mind is absolutely empty. All I can think about is him, and he is here, in front of me. I stand on my knees, still on the mattress, and I stretch my arms towards him. He comes closer and, finally, the tips of my fingers touch his skin. It feels warm, and soft and underneath I feel the defined shapes of his muscles. Hesitantly, I look up at him and I lean closer to his torso, until my lips press against his body. I kiss, softly, tracing a line along his lower abs, and then I move up, making my way to his chest, and his collarbones, and before I can think of what I am doing, I bury my face in his neck and I kiss it, passionately. I hear him sigh and his hands search for my body too. He strokes my arms and my back, and finally sinks his finger in my hair, caressing it sweetly as I wrap my arms around him and I bite his neck, making him hiss in a sound that doesn't tell pain from pleasure.

I pull back and smile when I see the red mark that my teeth left on his neck, proud of my job, but also feeling a tad shy. He cups my face with both his hands and makes me look up when I try to turn my face away. His thumbs stroke my cheeks first, and then one of them moves to my lips. I sigh, my eyes fixed on his eyes and my breathing turning heavier as anticipation grows in the atmosphere. I want to kiss him. Even more, I want him to kiss me. I want him to desire me as much as I desire him, to want me as I want him in this exact moment. I rush to take off his belt, and then he is the one that takes off his trousers and underwear. 

He is naked, in front of me. Completely naked. I am literally on fire when he finally comes to my bed, sitting right next to me. We stare at each other for a moment, and I can’t believe my boldness when I am the first one to take the step and kiss him. It doesn't go as I have planned, and my lips hit his own quite clumsily, but we just chuckle, and he takes my face between his hands as I place mine on his shoulders, pulling him closer. He kisses me slowly, moving his lips softly against mine and parting them to allow our tongues to touch. I feel like I am melting when he pulls me even closer until I am almost sitting on his lap. I keep my eyes close as we kiss, until I run out of breath, but I can’t stay away from him for more than a couple of seconds. He shoves our hips together and I start to move mine, slowly. My mouth opens against his, trying to kiss him but just being able to pant, shakily. He grins at my own excitement and runs his fingers up and down my sides.

We stay silent for a moment, our bodies pressed to each other. Our breathings fill the room and we kiss once more, gently. Our eyes meet once again. Friction is driving me crazy and I can’t wait to take off my underwear. All kinds of ideas cross my mind as I move against him. How I want him to touch me, how I want to feel him, kiss him, bite him. How I want to have him inside me. Now. I lean closer, but he moves back, dodging my kiss. I look at him, puzzled, until he grins.

“Tell me, Misto…” he purrs, licking his lips while his hands press my hips. Expectation is killing me, as much as desire. I am not even nervous anymore. I just want what I want, and I am getting impatient. Tugger elongates the pause, rejoicing in my lust, but he finally drops the words that make me beam again. “Do you want it to happen?”

I look up and down at him. I can play this game too. Pushing his chest, I pull away and move a bit backwards. Without giving him a clear answer, I take off my underwear. I let him see my naked body and, what is even more obvious, how hard I am. 

“Does this answer your question?”


End file.
